Page 39 of My Office Rival

Cynthia slid in across from me. “You’re being really weird. Why are you so jumpy?”

“You noticed that?” I bought time by sipping my beer and scanning the room.

“Yes, I would have to be blind not to,” she said. “Plus, you’re usually pretty calm and collected.”

Because I made a point of being that way. I met her warm brown eyes, inquisitive under her arched brows. She raised one while she sipped her beer and made a face at the taste. “Also, did you have to get beer?”

“I didn’t want to stand out,” I replied.

“See, you’re doing it again. There’s no reason to be weird about this bar.” She waved her hand around. “It’s not like the people here are drug dealers or gang members. Hell, there are worse bars around the corner from my parents in Queens.”

“I have issues.”

“You can say that again.”

I unclenched my jaw slowly and inhaled deeply.You owe her an explanation. Stop being weird.“I grew up in a few small towns across Tennessee. My, ah, foster families lived across the state. I started working in bars at age sixteen for extra cash.” I looked away from her careful scrutiny, my stomach twisting. I was only giving her a small fraction of the story, andwhy?No colleague had ever learned this truth.

She tilted her head, those dark eyes soft when I dared to take a peek. “So that’s why you hate small towns? It’s not just the lack of cocktail bars and public transportation?” She gave me a small smile.

“I could never live in one, that’s for damn sure.” I swigged my beer, grateful she wasn’t pressing for more details on my childhood.

“Me neither.” She shook her head.

“For me, it’s the anonymity of New York, and the sense of importance.”

She nodded. “It’s the center of the world. There’s something exciting happening on every corner. You can be anyone there.”

“Exactly.” She’d named the reasons why I loved it.

We fell silent for a minute, but it was a comfortable silence. When had things become comfortable between us?It would be impossible not to be entranced by her.That was it.Anyone would be sucked in by her whirlwind.

“So, do you go out a lot in New York?” she asked.

“Here and there.” How did I tell her that I felt too exposed at most bars? I wasn’t a risk taker. Not anymore. I preferred a quiet table somewhere exclusive, where I could keep an eye on the room and control the situation. Where roles and expectations were neatly defined. Only then could I relax.

“How do you meet women, then?”

I nearly spit out my beer at the question. “Uh, just like everybody else, I guess.” How did I tell her about the apps that were different, that catered to a specific type of interest?

“Wow, you’re really forthcoming. Please go on.”

I closed my eyes. “There are apps, Cynthia.”

“Well, duh. I’ve been on one a time or two myself. Look, I’ll even show you my profile. In the spirit of friendship.” I cracked an eye to see her tapping away at her phone. “Don’t click on anything, though. I don’t want anyone in this grimy bar to think I’m trolling for dudes.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “That would be a travesty,” I agreed. I grabbed her phone from her as she admonished, “Don’t laugh.”

23

CYNTHIA

Jason flipped through my photos, and I fiddled with the label of my beer. His eyes darkened as he scanned.Why am I even showing him this?I was playing with fire.

He was being weird tonight. The intensity was back. The relaxed person I had seen flashes of around the house was gone, and in his place was the guy I’d met that first night, the man I’d seen on conference calls and in our negotiations. He was all hard edges and confidence. If I hadn’t known better, I would have called it swagger. But Jason didn’t swagger. He cut through the world like a knife. And in this bar, he’d changed from the man who teased me in his underwear to an alpha, someone you didn’t fuck with. And man, it was hot. Even his cheekbones seemed sharper, his eyes hotter. The white henley he wore, as what I could only assume was camouflage, highlighted his broad shoulders and his strong arms. His stubble was growing out and his had a wave to it after a day of freedom from the confines of the gel he normally used.

My dating profile said I liked finding new restaurants, traveling, going for walks around my neighborhood, and finding New York City’s best bagels. Was I boring compared to him? Compared to the women he dated? Was I just like every other law firm attorney withconventional hobbies and not enough free time to become a fully developed human?

“Long Island,” he said.

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